Sapphic Voices Horror

The Lesson

This Story is rated 'Adults Only' for its sexual content.

"Ouch!" I can't believe she bit me. Yeah she's hot and all, and I really don't mind, but it hurts a lot more than a love bite should. Well, we're not in love, so maybe that's why it, "Hey!"

This time it’s not a nip; she's going for meat. "I don't like it that rough, baby!" Actually, I don't like it rough at all. It wasn't my idea to borrow Fran's leather chaps, her jacket and visit Stone. Okay, so I was drunk and just going along for the ride, but now I'm sober, and Loretta's getting a little too intense. Curiosity killed the cat, and all that!

"Ease up a little. I thought we were just going to have some fun." I pull away, rubbing my saliva slick neck. "I'm new to this, remember?"

________________

Every woman in the bar, no, every mistress in the bar is wearing black lipstick, except Loretta, and that is what got my attention. She strolled in with a big smile on her face wearing faded Levi's and a pressed white shirt, half open, revealing a very complicated leather bustier, not a bra, a boo-stee-ay! Fran gave me a crash course on manners and lingo in the car. She said to say yes mam and no mam, not to look anyone in the eye, and stay close to her. I tried to do all that but she went off to the back room with some strict looking bleached blond woman with a stick, no a crop. It’s amazing what sticks in your head when you pay attention.

So there I was, sitting at the bar looking at the TV screen, minding my own business, when Loretta asks me if she can sit down next to me. Well, I'm no dummy. "Hell yeah," was my answer.

I broke another rule by asking a hairy ass-ed cop type for the bar stool he was using as a footrest. He started to give me a dirty look, but changed his mind when Loretta winked, then smiled at him with her glossy red, red lips. I think she turned us both on with that smile. Not many women can pull off big hair, big boobs, and big pouty lips, but Loretta's retro style and her confidence won me over right away.

"All alone?" she'd asked, tapping her long nails on the counter, getting the bartender's quick attention.

"Sort of," I'd answered, wondering how long Fran was gonna take with the blond. "My friend went off with someone."

"What are you drinking?" She'd asked.

"Coors." I'd said, reaching in my back pocket for my last couple of bucks. "Would you like one?"

"No, but you could use another; it's on me, honey." She ordered another beer for me, telling the bartender to put it on her tab. He gave her a curt, "Yes, Mam." I tried not to meet anyone's eyes as I glanced around the bar to see if someone was going to give him hell for serving her first. Not a peep from anybody.

"My name's Loretta, what's yours?" She held out her cold hand for a shake. I noticed her nails were tipped in red, sculptured is what they call it, classy.

"Becky, " I'd smiled, "pleased to meet you. Thanks for the drink." If we'd been at a regular club I would have asked her to dance; I'm not very good at small talk. "How about you? Come by yourself?"

"Always." she'd said, grinning at me. "Why'd your friend leave you by yourself your first time out? You could get into a lot of trouble here."

"She got distracted." I'd shrugged, trying to look as innocent as possible, "Maybe you'll show me the ropes, save me from making a fool of myself. What kind of trouble?" I liked the way Loretta studied me. I'm nothing to look at, really. I suppose she would have moved on if she weren’t interested.

"Some people don't take too kindly to non-leather types coming in to gawk at them. Most of these people are serious, they're ready to play, and play hard.” She arched her dark eyebrows, "Do you even have a safe word?"

"I don't even know what that is, I mean, I do know, but I never needed one before. I wasn't planning on needing one. I didn't come to offend anybody. Are you here, to ... to play?" I finished off the beer I bought myself, suddenly nervous.

"Of course." She'd said with a wink, "I'm playing with you." She'd thrown her head back laughing, showing off her bright, white grin. I laughed, too, flattered to hell and back.

"Are you hard core, or is that even a polite question to ask?" I'd started to sip at the cooler beer Loretta handed to me.

She'd laughed again, "If you have to ask, you're in over your head, honey. This is a game of show, not tell. We don't go around telling each other how hard we play, we demonstrate. If it gets too intense for somebody, they use their safe word. Pretty simple."

"What's a good safe word?" It sounded easy enough.

"Something you can remember in a pinch." She'd pinched my arm, pulling on the hairs a little, then a lot. "Something you might say when it’s hard to breathe."

Although it hurt like hell, I liked it. Her nails were little teeth gouging in my arm, but other places in my body didn't mind so much, until she kept going. "Ouch!" I'd blurted out.

"No, try something else, a word not related to what's happening." Loretta demonstrated her point by twisting the flesh in her pincer grasp.

"Keys!" I'd whined, relieved at the blood rushing to fill the half moon craters she'd left in my arm. I repeated the word to myself, focusing of the huge ring of keys hanging on a nail above the liquor bottles; my safe word is keys, keys, keys.

"Now you're a pro!" She'd patted my boo boo comfortingly, beaming at me for passing the first hurdle. "The second step is finding out what you can handle. Are you up for it?"

Loretta leaned in real close, sensing I needed some encouragement, "I promise not to tell anyone if you scream like a baby." I was so distracted by the way she said, baby, the way her lips parted, came together, parted, that I would have agreed to anything.

"Okay, so when do I get my lesson?" I finished off the beer, looking forward to telling Fran how I scored at the Stone of all places. I looked around for those little pencils and slips of paper for taking down phone numbers, but there weren't any - another reminder that Stone isn't a regular bar.

"Unless you want your debut in the back room, which I seriously doubt, I'd say your car, or the alley." Loretta playfully shook her head at my ignorance. "Negotiation is not something we do here, so this will be the first and last time you have a discussion. You either lead, follow, or get out of the way." Loretta slipped her hand over my borrowed skins, and up to my crotch to make sure I was paying attention. "Which is it going to be?"

She didn't wait for my answer. She was almost out the door before her message hit home and I followed - now or never. Fran's keys - keys, keys, keys - were in my pocket. I thanked my lucky starts for thinking to ask her for them before she sashayed off to God knows where.

Out in the street, I tried to take charge of my new friend, as much as possible, steering her toward the privacy of Fran's old pick up. Loretta leaned in close to shield herself from the wind, but refused to wear my - no, Fran's jacket.

"No need to waste your friend's gas." Loretta unbuttoned her starched white shirt after slamming the rusty door shut, shrugging it off, draping it carefully over the dash, giving me a full view of her complicated corset in the process. I left the keys hanging idle in the ignition, happy to save gas, but also wanting some heat.

She'd smiled knowingly as my attention wandered to her overflowing cups. "I see you've already forgotten about being cold. Very good, that's lesson three, your comfort doesn't matter."

I nodded, ready for lesson four, hoping it was easy, too, and watched her kneel on the vinyl seat, coming closer to me. She inserted her cold ass hand into my open jacket, undoing the buttons on my shirt. "The proper attitude is one of obedience. You're to do what you're told without question, and best do it quickly. The assumption of most players is that the mistress, master, whatever, isn't going to kill you, and that scenes are safe."


Something softly plopped in my lap, and then rolled across my thigh. Loretta was slicing the buttons clean off my shirt. I'd swallowed my rising excitement, preparing for the bitter lipstick kiss I expected she was about to lay on me. I never have liked the taste of that stuff. Her kiss was cold, like she'd been sucking on ice; it made me shiver. My mouth went numb, but I didn't care 'cause she was nibbling and sucking my tongue and lips like there's was no tomorrow, and twisting the hell out of my nipple, also going numb, but still alive enough to make me wish she'd move her hand lower. Sweet Jesus!

Loretta read my mind and headed south with her cold paw, and with her big, pretty mouth. Her icy tongue trickled a warm, wet stream down my frozen throat. Then she'd ruined it all with the slice and bite routine.

________________

"Ease up a little. I thought we were just going to have some fun." I pull away, rubbing my saliva slick neck. "I'm new to this, remember?"

Loretta shakes her 80's mane of black feathered hair back into place flipping the passenger side visor mirror down to repair lipstick smeared all over her cheeks. Her teeth are covered with it. Lipstick isn't supposed to drip from the corners of your mouth, its supposed to stay put.

Cool air hits my pubes. The crotch of my Levi’s is open, cut to shreds. Dear God, what in the world? My wet and puffy lips stop being numb, and start smarting like a hundred bee stings. My neck is a sticky mess, dribbling onto my shirt, the borrowed jacket, growing hotter, throbbing sharply with each panicked thud of my heart.

The cab of the truck is taking on a peculiar odor - of copper, or metal. I taste blood; my nose and mouth are full of it. I gag.

Loretta continues to fuss with her hair, digs in her pocket for a little packet - a pre-moistened towelette. She rips it open with her fangs, and begins to clean up my blood, smeared from the tip of her nose, to the tips of her fingers. "Oh God." I murmur, my words bubbling from my shredded lips, quickly becoming glued shut. I check between my legs with my hand, and find a different kind of muck, just me down there, still in one piece.

Loretta continues with her cleanup. "The point of a scene is to survive through it, without using your safe word, and so far, so good, Betsy. When you're asked a direct question, you are to answer yes, or no Mam or Sir. Other than that, your job is to keep breathing."

She takes out two more wipes. "Do you understand, now, Betsy, why you can get into trouble in a place like Stone?" She finally looks at me, waiting.

"Yeth.. yesth mam." Opening the cuts on my lips to speak is a torture. It takes all the energy I have, my heart falters, and then picks up, squeezing more heat down my chest, onto my open thighs. It tickles as it seeps down into my slit. Dear God help me.

"Good.” she says, balling up the wipey and tossing it playfully at me. I gag again, my vision becoming fuzzy at the edges. Loretta retrieves her white shirt, opens the door, and slips the billowing sleeves over her shoulders when the wind takes hold of them. "Don't forget, Betsy, the key is to know where you belong."

The sound I make is not a word, or an answer, but then again, she hasn't asked a question. I have no lips or breath left to try again. Keys. I thought the rules were simple. The fresh air sharpens the odors in the cab for a moment, and then Loretta locks and slams the door.

I focus on the keys hanging from the ignition, forcing rancid air in past my bloated tongue, listening to her evenly paced retreat. My vision, then my lungs - fail me. Loretta's chilling kisses are nothing compared to the ice crystals blooming in my empty veins. I've never been so cold in my life.

If you have enjoyed Mary Dawn's "The Lesson", then please be certain to  Contact The Writer  and thank her for posting this Story.

Click here for a list of all of Mary Dawn's Stories and Poetry at  Sapphic Voices Authoresses.

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